


Euphoric

by Gulo



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Accidental Orgasm, F/M, Massage, Orgasm, Vulcan Neuropressure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 12:15:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16681450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gulo/pseuds/Gulo
Summary: Vulcan neuropressure is a subtle and sensitive business.





	Euphoric

"In general, the discipline covers the majority of the neck, shoulders, and back; however, refrain from going past the back down to the waist. This is an even more sensitive area, and neuropressure here tends to activate functions other than sleep."

Trip had nodded through T'Pol's neuropressure instructions with a kind of dumb determination. He was a good listener. It's just that this kind of interpersonal exchange was still a little odd and awkward. 

But he got the same impression from T'Pol, in that she was on his level: pretending not to fumble through social customs in her own way. He quickly learned that they had more in sympathy there than it seemed at first blush. Or first bristle. 

It was only later that first night, and left to his own devices, that it occured to him to wonder about those other functions... and to more-than-wonder about them.

But it didn't occur to him again, not through the regular habituation of their appointments. Neuropressure was business, of a sort. Well, it was at first. What it became was a meeting between friends, something to look forward to. For his part, he could say he enjoyed it. But it was still a professional exchange. 

Then one night, T'Pol lay prone before him. She was topless, as she had been many times before, and in fact he had seen her breasts many times, but had not stared at them. The casual nudity was precious, something he would never dare violate. T'Pol continued to speak to him whenever they disrobed, looked at him and did not hide herself. Her naturalness was something far better than merely alluring -- it was comfortable. And she had never looked so comfortable as he saw her this night, so comfortable and relaxed that he wondered if he had put her to sleep right there.

Smiling to himself, Trip started to get up to leave, but T'Pol grunted. "Hm."

"Hm...? Whuzzat mean?"

"Hmm."

Stifling another smile, Trip resettled astride T'Pol's hips, though he was unsure how to proceed. Clearly she wasn't ready to finish. Perhaps she was mindful of the fact that he hadn't gotten his share of attention yet, not that it terribly mattered to him, when he was just as chilled out, just watching her. Affectionately, he let his fingers roam her back once more, but without pressure now, just a caress... 

"Hmm..." 

Feeling a blush though he could not quite say how or why, Trip made himself sit with this, enjoying the experience too much to flee. His boxers felt a little tighter, but he adjusted himself accordingly. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the soothing hum of the ship engines blithely singing their lullabye, and seeing T'Pol's placid form stretch out languidly as his fingers sunk into the back of her short dense hair, and comb through it. 

Did.... did her ears just wiggle? Nah, that was wacky, must have just been imagining it, just like he imagined that ghost of a smile. 

But she was enjoying it, too. Otherwise she'd have made no hesitation to sit up and dismiss him, or insist it was his turn. He became self-conscious again, and fought it. He was trapped between not wanting this moment to end, and wondering if he was missing some sort of cue.

Time to be a dumbass. Yep, sometimes you gotta throw a wrench into things just to see what'll come out. "Hey, how 'bout I show you what I know? This is how I used to do it back home." And he began to use his knuckles, not the fingerpads nor palms of his hands as in the Vulcan technique, but balled knuckles to rock along either side of T'Pol's spine and stretch out each vertebra. Things clicked and popped in a different way, and although T'Pol's expression flickered, it seemed to be to one of thoughtfulness. 

"Whaddya think?" he paused to assess.

"It is pleasant," T'Pol mumbled, "continue."

This was easy. Having this to do to switch gears was a great distraction. (Right.) He could go at his own pace, and use movements that came instinctively to him, though he had to admit that the Vulcan discipline had refined him here as well. Soon T'Pol's trapezii, her skin typically a burnished copper, were suffused with bronze blush as her cappiliaries rose to the surface to heal worked-out knots of tension. It was a more superficial technique than neuropressure, more basic -- but not unwelcome. T'Pol reached for her pillow and hugged it to her neck, blissed.

But eventually, Trip tired of this too. He was starting to get sleepy. Gradually, his touch eased up, and he leaned back against the wall bordering T'Pol's bed to caress her a last time, his fingertips stroking her spine above the waistline.

It was like her body seized under his hand -- arching up in place, like an inchworm. She inhaled sharply. T'Pol was frozen, with her rear in the air, clutching the pillow. There was no more capacity for air to gasp, so she gulped. Her hips began to shake. 

"T.... T'Pol...? Are you alright?" 

Thrown for a loop, Trip sat back on the bed to give her room. He was instantly petrified, wondering if he'd hit some kind of nerve, something related to her earlier warning?! But T'Pol said nothing, her hips continuing to shake, thighs rubbing back and forth, and curiously silent except for a beating of her short breaths. 

"T'Pol..." 

Though he was worried about making things worse, he could not help but put his hands back on the waist of her pajamas, if it might calm her. She felt hot, incredibly hot, the hips shook in his hand erratically, until finally she fell back down, now panting, torso and face in a sheen of sweat. 

As soon as he realized what he'd done, he tried to stammer an apology, but all he could manage was a squeak. "I...." 

The look T'Pol gave him was... confused. Obviously, she had not expected this to happen. But it wasn't just some happenstance fluke. No ordinary massage, nor ordinary novice, could have triggered this reaction. Despite herself, despite everything, she seemed impressed. 

"We will have to continue another time." 

That was a bit of a sock to the mouth. But Trip could take it. He felt a bit guilty -- well, no, more like he felt like a total careless idiot. But he was absolutely just a little bit satisfied. 

Moments later and she appeared nonplussed. T'Pol shrugged on her top and led him to the door with candor. As the door opened he finally stammered that apology, "T'Pol. I'm sorry. Sh-shouldn't have let my hands wander so far. Won't happen again." 

The vulcan examined Trip's face before replying. "Thank you for that. Don't trouble yourself over this. It was an accident." 

"O-okay. Goodnight."

"Your massage was interesting. I hope you sleep well. Goodnight."

Trip would do just that, now that he had such a sweet image to play back in his head, over and over. Incredible, to make someone orgasm through their spine. If only he could do it again....

~<3~


End file.
